


Project Wyvern

by Echo_1608



Category: Ace Combat, Project Wingman (Video Game)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Strangereal Universe (Ace Combat)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo_1608/pseuds/Echo_1608
Summary: After being found guilty of the assassination of Former President Harling, Trigger just can't stand things anymore. His flight instructor always told him to be careful when it came to politics, but he was already in to deep. Everything was crashing down around him. Brownie was gone. Clown abandoned him without a second thought. No one even cared to listen to his defense or investigate the situation. He was put in cuffs and led out of Osea to cries of anger, baying for his blood.He thought he would be completely alone, that he would never fly again, until, he met a certain merc.
Comments: 28
Kudos: 31





	1. Fallen Peacekeeper

“So…What are you in for?”

Trigger sighed in frustration as he was asked the same question for the seventh time today. He was just getting tired of have to answer the same damn question. Thats all it had been for the last week. Court after court, tribunal after tribunal, all of them basically just for show. Calling him a murderer, assassin, killer. Clown abandoned him, the IUN discharged him, angry Osean citizens threatening him, no one cared what he saw. Now he’s being shipped off to a penal unit. He just wanted some peace and quiet. 

Three transports and five stops later, and Trigger was about to rip his hair out. All of these various actual criminals all had the same look on their face, that slight smirk, the raised eyebrow, the glint in their eye that said “I’ve done worse than you.”. He did nothing, he was doing his job. Protect the target, escort the target out of the area of operations, away from the lighthouse. Then Sea Goblin goes down, a missile strike taking out Colonel Johnson, and everything fell apart. 

Trigger felt the rage build up inside him and his head snapped up he was ready to cuss out whoever this little shit was so much the guards might have to hold him down. Oh this criminal was about to get it. He was innocent, he was simply blamed because he was the closest one to a downed plane in the middle of a furball. It was the most asinine thing he had ever seen in his entire life. He took a deep breath…then paused. 

Across from him, was a woman. Definitely military, airforce probably, the way she sat in her seat told him everything. Sat straight up, legs kept together, prepared to brace against G-forces. Of course there weren’t going to be, but it was out of habit, trigger was sat the same exact way. He tilted his head to the left a bit as he looked her over. She had freckles along her cheeks dark eyes, and dirty blonde hair. She just smiled lightly at him. None of the usual looks he had gotten from the other criminals. He was about to ask her the same question, she didn’t seem like she wa-

“Yeah I know I don’t look like I’m supposed to be here either.” She shrugged. “I’m honestly just bored, I’ve been on transports all day and I can’t stand it anymore.”

Trigger rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. 

“You too huh?” She laughed. “Damn bastards wouldn’t even let me keep my gear. Took it all from me.”

Trigger tilted his head again. He hadn’t said anything but she was understanding everything he tho-

“Oh, sorry, yeah my old pilot was the silent type, so I had to get used to understanding him via other means.” She raised her handcuffed hands in defense. “You kinda give off the same vibes.”

Trigger just nodded, very impressed, he didn’t like talking that much, especially when flying. He did it when he had to read back or report something. The only one who he was really able to talk to was Brownie, who was gone now. He kept forgetting that. He frowned and looked to the woman. He decided to answer. “A crime I didn’t commit.”

She just nods. “I feel that. I’m a mercenary. Or…was I guess.” She sighs. “We got shot down by a peacekeeper force who assumed we were working for Erusea. Wouldn’t listen to anything I said, even told them to reach out to my corps and they would explain the whole thing. It was of course, refused.” She laughed. “I guess they’re just booking us for whatever they can.”

Trigger scoffed, she was right, there wasn’t any official court case at all for him.

“No official case for you either?” She looked shocked, “Yeah, this is all bs. I could kill for a drink right now…Probably not getting one for a while.” She sighed heavily and leaned back. “Could kill for some wine.”

“Peacekeepers? IUN?” Trigger spoke up again, curious. His eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, IUN, no idea what they were doing so far away from Usea, but sure enough, they hunted us down.”

Trigger wondered who had shot her down, he squinted slightly, trying to remember if he was told of any squadrons that were outside of Usea, there were a few that he knew of that worked as boarder patrol. But, he had no idea of who they were. 

“Crimson, that was the squadron name. Didn’t get a good look at them though. My pilot was flying a single seater that day, I was in a transport that Crimson took down.” She sighed. “I just want to be back in my seat as wso, and get paid.” She grumbles and looks down at her feet. “They won’t even let me out on bail.”

Trigger frowned and nodded, he hated it, but a life sentence was a life sentence. Well, it basically was. He definitely wasn’t going to last all two hundred years. 

“You too huh?” She laughed. “Well…I’m glad to see I’ll at least have someone to talk to while I’m stuck.” She grinned, ear to ear. “I’m Prez by the way…or…that was my callsign.” Her smile started to fall.

“Trigger.” He smiled. “Nice to meet you, Prez.”Her smile came back, happy to see that at least someone who understood the importance of her callsign would call her by it. 

“So…anyone tell you where we’re going?"

Trigger just shook his head and shrugged. No one deemed him worthy of information. “Penal unit, Usea, probably east coast.”

Prez’s eyes went wide. “USEA?! The hell are we doing in usea! Do they expect us to fight they’re fucking war for them! I’m not some free labor someone can just toss out! I’ve got rights as a citizen!” She growled as one of the guards laughed. “You wanna go? huh?” She glared at the guard who laughed. “Could probably kick your ass even with these handcuffs.”

Trigger just smiled and glared at the guard too. Oh, he liked her a lot. He was going to stick with her as much as he could. Might as well make a friend or two where he could. He looked back at her and nodded in approval.

Prez laughed slightly. “Glad to see you and I will be getting along, it’s probably going to be boring as hell.” She sighs heavily. “I just want to be in the copilot’s seat again.”

Trigger nodded, he was going to miss the sky. The freedom he felt behind the controls, it was so far away now. He was going to miss it so much. His old flight instructor had probably heard the news by now. Probably was pitching a fit, he always said that countries at their core were corrupt, never looking to the future, always worried about the now, and their boarders. 

Prez just nodded. “I’m going to miss it too, the sky I mean.” She frowns. “I used to fly with aces.”

The transport started to descend. The guards stood up. “Welcome to your new home inmates. We hope you find it comfortable.” The one speaking just chuckled. “Well…actually we don’t give a damn what you think, murderer.”

Trigger glared at them, but was more focused on looking out the window. This looked like an airbase…not a prison. Runways, hangers, and tons of planes, there was everything from bombers, to recon craft. Hell, this looked to be the fob for the Osean airforce.

“Ummm…I think you guys might have the wrong address.” Prez finally spoke up, just as confused as Trigger was. 

The guards just laughed. “Sure, sure, whatever.”

Prez just glared again, Trigger was just downright confused. If this was their prison, why the hell would it be an airbase. At least he could be close to planes, even if he wouldn’t be able to fly one again.

That was at least nice.

Right?

Prez’s concerned face said otherwise.

________________

Operation: High Card

July 1, 2019, 08:06

Prez was right, this place made no sense. Trigger was hurriedly putting on a flight suit as a guard yelled at him to get his shit together. 

“You’ve got a briefing in two minutes Inmate! I better see those boots on in the next thirty seconds or it’ll be my boot on you.” 

The guard was an ass, Trigger glared at him as he was distracting Trigger from his usual routine, the even more jarring thing was the fact that this was his flight suit. It even had the IUN and Mage squadron patches still on it. This was all his equipment, even Brownie’s radio was in here. That was even more distracting. 

He was still haunted by Brownie’s last words. She called out for his help, even though they were in different squadrons, they always said they would help each other out. But he was just to far away, his F-16 couldn’t handle the amount of speed he needed to get to her. He ended up burning out the engine of his old F-16 when he attempted anyways. He stayed awake some nights, wondering if there was anything he could do. Brownie was a good pilot, and a great friend. 

God did he miss her. Her radio was the only thing he had. She had given it to him so that Trigger could hear her at anytime, so they could chat without the top brass butting in. It was a universal radio. It was an older Belkan made model, allowed him to pick up whatever non secure radio signals were going around. He could still hear the voice of Brownie’s killer. He shook in rage, then took a deep breath as he finished tying his boots. Just in time to block a kick coming for him with his shin, he grimaced as he did. Then the second kick came in, he wasn’t able to block that.

This place had been so rough on him, apparently someone had found out about his apparent, ‘murder’ and there were rumors going around with the other inmates. Some of them said it was all a part of the Erusan princess’s plan. It still creeped him out that all the inmates here practically worshipped her. He didn’t even think any of them were Erusan anyways, so where the crazy amount of loyalty came from…he had no god damn idea. 

Luckily…Prez had been a huge help, staying up with him on the nights where he couldn’t sleep just by chatting quietly with him, and was quickly becoming a good friend. She muscled her way into the hierarchy of the inmates by beating up a guy twice her size. If the way she fought with her fists compared to the way she fought in the air. Oh, Trigger couldn’t wait. 

And that, was the strangest thing. The briefing, the base, the prison, everything. It was the strangest plan he had ever heard. Make a fake airbase with mothballed planes and just, send the inmates up in planes because it made things more realistic. Even crazier, there was only one woman who worked on the planes. The Scrap queen. She apparently was in for breaking wartime aviation laws…which, made zero sense from what he got with details from Prez.

He’d only seen her once, Prez knew more than Trigger did honestly. He zipped up his gear bag and sighed slightly as the guard shove him in the right direction, barely giving him time to put his bag over his shoulder. He marched, quick step, all the way to the briefing room, which was filled with all of the worst inmates. Now he knew why some of them were so cocky. He heart dropped however when Prez was no where to be seen. 

He took a seat nearby the one guy he knew was somewhat chill. Tabloid if he could recall. Tabloid simply raised an eyebrow at this, but paid it no mind. Champ was nearby too, still sporting a large angry purple bruise on his cheek from where Prez had decked him. 

Then, the base commander walked in, Mc…something. Trigger couldn’t remember his name. Everyone just called him the base commander or the warden. The tac screen started up, and everyone started to quiet down instantly. Trigger raised a surprised eyebrow, this seemed, very normal actually. He was starting to feel comfortable.

“All right guys, I'll let you in on some juicy info. The new guy was found guilty by the International Union Peacekeeping Force's court martial. He is the murderer of Harling in the flesh.” There we a few whistles from the other inmates. 

Trigger’s eyes went wide and his heart dropped. Well…shit, that was out of the bag. He knew that was going to give him some unwanted attention. As if he didn’t have enough already. 

“His TAC name's Trigger. Now, as of today, he may be attached to the Osean Air Force Base 444 Squadron, but that's just some symbolic bullshit. It doesn't really matter if he's Harling's murderer or not. Every last one of you has been incarcerated for one reason or another. You cons have an obligation to atone for your crimes.”

Trigger just looked disturbed, the hell was all of this? Atone for our crimes? He thought he heard something…like a distant engine, but was to distracted.

“A few of you in the penal unit know how to fly, and HQ needs to plug the deficit in our air force. So they proposed sending you guys on a reconnaissance mission to the Waiapolo Mountains.” 

Recon? Prisoners doing recon? The hell was all of this! But, it seems that idea was rejected so. Thats okay? Why is he here then?

“This base is a decoy designed to draw enemy fire. And, as members of this base, you'll be taking hits from the enemy. This will allow our forces to safely prepare a counterattack.”

Trigger just sighed quietly. This was redicu-

The ground shook, the screen flickered, and the shockwave from the explosion hit with a resounding thump.

“Incoming!”

Alarms started sounding, Trigger quickly stood, expecting panic. 

But….No one moved. 

“Switch off that alarm! It's just the usual.” 

Switch off the alarm? The usual? The base commander made a comment about Zapland. Then looked at his assorted prisoners.

“Okay, I'm gonna need a few aircraft to scramble.”

“Again?!”

“I wonder how many we'll lose today…”

“Better than solitary.”

“How many can actually fly?”

“Enemy aircraft detected over the dummy runway.”

The Tac screen updated with targets.

“We just need to make it look like we can put up a fight. Some of those piles of junk can at least take off. Let's get the guiltiest cons in the sky first. We'll start with Harling's murderer. We don't expect you to down any bombers. But what we do want is to make them think that we've got an active base here.”

Trigger’s eyes widened, but there was nothing he could do. He just took a deep breath, picked up his bag, and went over to the guard. “Get me a plane.”

The guard just shrugged and started into a jog, “Keep up murderer. Or it’ll be solitary for you.”

Trigger kept up just fine, this was way more spacious than a carrier, so it was easy. “AWACs?” He directed the question at the guard.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” The guard just ignores him as they come to the hangers. He talks with another guard who just shrugs and points. 

Trigger sees an SU-33, but it looks like it already has a pilot, it’s got one line painted on it’s tail. And a top hat with wings. This was someone’s plane. He tried to figure things out when he was suddenly shoved. 

“Move it Murderer. We gotta get to the next Hanger, it seems the scrap queen had a special project going, and it’s all ready for you.”

Trigger grumbled but jogged along, his bag smacking against his back, and he froze as he reached the next hanger. Sitting there, fueled and armed, with the Scrap Queen herself doing final checks was an X-02. A Strike Wyvern, Here? In the middle of no where. It was painted in a dark grey with blue wingtips. Three white lines were painted on the tail wings. The underside was painted in a light grey-blue. 

Trigger looked at the guard. “You’re joking.” He points to the plane, which he just noticed was a two seater.

The guard scoffed. “What, going to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Trigger just raised his hand in frustration. “Wizzo, I need a Wizzo.”

“Who the hell is going to be your WSO, you’re not even going to be firing weapons up there, you don’t need to worry.”

Trigger just growled and grabbed the guard by their collar. “I need….a Weapon System Officer. They do more than just weapons, you ass.” He pokes the guard in their chest with two fingers, hard. “Get….me…Prez, prisoner number four-two-two, she’s in the cell across from mine.” He releases the Guard, who he now notices is completely terrified. “Now.”

The guard just nods and quickly runs off.

Trigger watches him go, his head tilted. “Everyone here is a little scared of you. Not many murderer’s here. Especially ace pilots who are being given a plane.” The Scrap Queen finally spoke up. “You’re right though, you’re going to need a Wizzo. This plane is a beauty.” 

Trigger nodded. He wasn’t going to deny that, he started putting on his gear, and doing his checks. “You have duct tape?”

Scrap Queen looks confused, but tosses him a roll. “Here…why you need it?”

Trigger pulls out Brownie’s radio. “Secure.”

“Ah…I see. Well more power to you, Keep the roll. I’m sure you’ll need it, and I’ve got plenty more.” She chuckles and climbs up to the cockpit. “Alright you’re all good to go.” She climbs down. “Just do your final checks and adjustments and get up there."

“Eat my ass!” Trigger and the Scrap Queen turned in time to see Prez jogging backwards towards them, she was in a flight suit with a helmet in one hand, and her other giving the middle finger to whatever guard brought her here. She turned around and paused. “Trigger?”

Trigger nodded as he lowered the visor on his helmet and put it on. Making sure it was secure. He just pointed to the wso position, made a fist, then pulled down.

Prez looked overjoyed. “Wait, wait, wait. I get to….No…I won’t be paid. Buuuut…” She thought about it, then shrugged. “What the hell, right now it might as well be a nice chair on the beach.” She chuckled and put on her own helmet. “So what am I running?”

“Ecm.” Trigger climbed up into his seat. More explosions detonated in the distance. He started doing his final checks. 

Prez hopped into her new seat and started strapping in and doing her own checks. “Copy that. I’ll focus ecm. Hope you know how to fly, maybe you can impress me, though I’ll let you know. I’ve flown with aces before.”

Trigger looked back at her, as their X-02 was pulled out of the hanger and onto the tarmac. “Really?”

Prez scoffed. “Dumbass, yes I have.” She went back to her work. “Now lets get this thing running, we’ve got a sky to take for our own.” She booted up the radar and started tagging targets. “AWAC’s connection is good, reviewing targets.”

Trigger just looked up as he closed the cockpit canopy, it was a sunny day. The sky however, was a deep, dark, blue. He felt a chill down his spine, here he was, back in a plane. Taking off into unknown skies. 

There were three types of aces…he wondered which they would become.


	2. Ace Up the Sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all for your support so far! I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter of Project Wyvern!

Operation: High Card

July 1, 2019, 08:17.

The fake runway was burning, guards and ground crew were running around, trying to get the other prisoners in their planes and in line.

Trigger looked at the chaos with a raised eyebrow and a judging stare. Then when back to applying duct tape to secure Brownie’s radio to the side of his seat. They were already in line, he was just waiting for orders.

Prez finally spoke up. “The hell is this! We’re under attack assholes! Get a move on!” She shook her fist at the nearest plane. The SU-33 from before, with the tophat painted on the tail. The pilot had finally sat down and closed his canopy.

Trigger’s helmet radio crackled to life. He double checked the volume and waited. 

“Follow orders Trigger! Taxi to the runway now.” 

He frowned, The ATC was gruff and rude as hell. But what could he expect? A change in the norm? Maybe, maybe not. He just got the X-02 moving forward, usually this would be in sync with other squad members….But, this was a penal unit. No one was in sync. He went to check the altimeter as just ordered.

“Altimeters checked, all showing seventy-five feet of elevation and altitude indicator holding stable.” Prez replied.

Trigger turned and looked behind him.

She turned and tapped at a few other instruments. “Compass, check.” She nods to Trigger. “Airspeed indicator…slightly fluctuating. But we’re moving already because we have to follow orders.” She glared at the Control tower. Then looked back to Trigger. “We’re all set.”

He gave a thumbs up, then turned back. Switching the radio so they were on the squad frequency. 

“Control, would you kindly send me up first.” The squad radio marked the speaker as Count, Spare 2. He sounded tired and bored. 

Trigger guessed it was because he’d done this many times before. He turned onto the runway and kept in line. He frowned when he saw that chaos had returned. Then his head snapped left. “SHIT!” He changed direction fast.

Prez squawked in surprise behind him. 

Champ had muscled his way onto the runway, completely out of line, almost hitting a squad member’s plane.

“Spare Eight! Champ! This is the control tower.” The ATC sounded slightly annoyed. 

Trigger glared at the control tower. If this was a normal airfield ATC would have verbally bitten off Champ’s head.

“You are not cleared for take off! Obey orders!”

Champ finally replied. “Go to hell!”

Trigger raised an eyebrow at that. Where did Champ get off telling the ATC to go to hell. You tell that to any sensible ATC and they’ll make your life a nightmare. 

“All Aircraft preparing for take off, watch for Spare Eight! He’s forcing a takeoff!”

Prez just huffed. “Oh now you tell us! Could have mentioned that earlier!”

“I’ll take up command. Any objections?” Count spoke up once more. 

Trigger just looked hopelessly at the blue camo SU-33. There wasn’t a chain of command. 

Which meant no actual flight lead.

Trigger frowned slightly. 

No formation.

Trigger paused, then looked back at Prez.

No one to tell him what to do.

Prez tilted her head at him. “Whats up Trigger? Did I miss something?” She started looking around the cockpit, checking instruments once more.

Then the radio crackled to life once more, Spare 11, Tabloid. “That’ll get decided in the skies.”

Count let out an amused huff. “Touché.”

Trigger settled back in his seat, made a few adjustments to the instruments, and let a wicked smile slowly grow on his face. The Scrap Queen was right, this plane was a beauty. In the past, he had done some research on the X-02. So he was very interested to see if stories were true. 

“Trigger, your call sign is Spare Fifteen. Consider it your prisoner number for the air.”

He raised an eyebrow as he turned onto the runway, just behind Count. Who was just taking off now.“Trigger, Spare fifteen, copy.”

“Prez, Spare fifteen, copy.” She gave Trigger a thumbs up as he glance back at her. “Lets kick ass!”

He nodded back. 

“Sorry what?” There was the sound of shuffling as the ATC tried to figure out what was going on. 

“Hey, Trigger needed a WSO, what do you expect?”

There was a pause, “Alright…commencing deception and interception. Runway’s free, you have permission to take off.” The ATC closed the channel. 

Trigger grinned and thumbed the throttle, giving it a test, he could see enemy fighters coming in, they could take him out on take off if he wasn’t careful.“Umm…Trigger we have a problem. Master Arm is on, but our FCS is locked.” She gave the console a light smack. “Shit we’re fucked if we don’t get this fixed…”

He turned back. “They won’t give weapons to prisoners. Remember?”

Prez looked at him in shock. “So we’re going into that mess with no weapons! Are they out of their god damned minds! We’ll all be shot down!”

Trigger paused, then tilted his head. “You flew with aces?”

She glared at him. “Yes! I did! But that still doesn’t change how fucked we are!”

He shook his head. “It will.” He turned back and settled in, pushing his legs together. “I’m going to need you to brace.”

Prez’s eyes widened. “Okay…” She did as he asked. “I’ll focus ECM, like you said before then.”

He smiled, gave another thumbs up. 

“Take off now Spare fifteen!” Now the ATC was upset. 

“Copy.” Trigger gunned it. Maxing out the engine. He watched as the speed climbed. He looked to his right, watching for enemy fighters as he gently pulled back on the stick, watching his speed. He hit 850 KPH, then activated the variable wing mechanism. The wings folded in, the tail folded down. Once it was locked, he yanked back on the stick sending the X-02 into a straight climb. 

“Oh…OH…no no no no no no!” Prez yelped as she heard the lock alert come on. “SHIT! TRIGGGGGGGGERRRRRR!” She then looked down, they were climbing so fast, the lock was broken almost instantly. She kept herself braced. “I’m going to smack you when we get back you ass!”

Eh, could be a worse price for pure freedom, he smiled as he felt the slight G-forces push him back into his seat. Oh how he missed this. He hadn’t been able to pull moves like this since flight school. It made it all the better that this beast could hit over three thousand KPH. He laughed, oh he could get used to this, this was his plane now. 

“HOLY FUCKING HELL TRIGGER!” Prez was pissed beyond belief, and glad she didn’t eat yet. She felt like her guts were left on the ground. “You could have warned me!” She stayed braced and started up her work, marking targets on their radar, activating IR jammers, and reading her ECM Suite. It was all second nature, and this plane had one hell of a WSO position. 

“I told you brace!” Trigger just laughed more. He smiled as he reached ten thousand on his altimeter. “You just keep bracing, alright?” He brought them level quickly as he overlooked the battle. Bombers coming in, heading southeast.

“So…no missiles again, FCS is locked.” Count spoke up again, sounding bored. 

The other squad members just sounded slightly upset. 

“Prisoners use nothing without supervision, not even a pencil.” A new voice joined the squad coms. Gruff and authoritative.

Trigger raised an eyebrow at this. 

“Ah, here comes Harling’s murderer.” Spare 7, High Roller spoke up. 

Trigger felt his blood run cold as he looked back at Prez. 

She had paused in her work and was looking at him, her eyes squinted slightly at him.

“He put two missiles right between old Harling’s eyes!” Spare 6, Full band replied on the coms. 

Trigger just frowned slightly, but Prez nodded, Her stare softened, and she went back to focusing. “Missile! Jink it Trigger!”

Missile alarm ringing in his ear. He turned back and did just that, rolling as he smashed the throttle to full, angling left, then shifted right. As a missile roared past them, Prez yelped again. Trigger used their speed to break away from the Erusean fighter. 

“Always in the know, aren’t you Full band?” Count came back to the coms.“In this war, Intel is a life or death matter.” 

“Settle down. Excited to have another murder with you.” The gruff voice from before interrupted the conversation. 

The squad coms filled with a few cheers. “What the fuck….” 

Prez laughed awkwardly, “What is this squadron?”

Hell if he knew, Trigger just sighed as he banked left into a turn. Getting a full look of the battlefield once more, He was still pretty high up. Most of the Erusean’s hadn’t noticed him. It seemed they were to busy with the rest of Spare Squadron. 

“This is Bandog. Spare 15, I’ll be handling surveillance.” The handshake protocols went through, identifying Bandog as their AWAC’s. “The bombers that attacked the runway are coming back for another round. I know it’s just a dummy runway. You guys just need to make a lot of noise, just make them think there are fighters at the base.” He chuckled. “If any of you die, think of it as you atoning for your crimes.” 

Prez laughed and replied. “Much appreciated Bandog, anything else of note?”

“Any craft leaving the operation area will be shot down. You hear me?”

Prez paled at that and went silent. “Righto.” Count replied, no one else said anything. 

“Good, Spare Fifteen, work off your crimes.” Bandog closed the channel. 

Prez huffed in response. “What crimes, this is bull.”

What crimes indeed, Trigger nodded. He pushed the X-02 into a slight dive. Watching as an escort fighter tried to engage Spare 11. He was glad to see he could still lock onto enemies, so he slammed the throttle again to get into a better position. 

Spare 11 was trying to break off. “I could use a hand here.” Tabloid was breathing hard, stressing under pressure. 

“Ah shove off you’ll be fine.”

“I’m busy”

“I’ll help if you trade a smoke for it.”

“Spare Eleven just stop dogfighting.” Bandog even wouldn’t help.

Tabloid just sounded defeated. “Oh come on!”

“Spare Eleven….Tabloid, we’re coming up on the bogey, break left on my mark.” Prez sent out the message as Trigger came up on the enemy fighter, an Su-33. Trigger got on them fast with a roll, and let the lock on do the talking. 

Prez nodded, “Three, two, one. MARK!” 

Tabloid banked left, dodging a missile at the same time, the Su-33 followed, and Trigger followed a few seconds later, keeping the lock steady. The Su-33 kept on Tabloid and fired off a few rounds of 30mm. Tabloid rolled and dived. The Su-33 let him go, as Trigger was hard on his tail. 

Prez whooped in delight. “Yeah! Thats how we do it! Stay on em Trigger.” She started messing with some instruments. “Annnnd he’s jammed! Keep that lock on him.”

The Su-33 started trying to get away, banking right and climbing. Trigger was right on their tail though, climbing right behind, staying on their tail. Trigger hoped that their radar lock warning was going off constantly. 

“We’ve got incoming, let him go Trigger.” Erusean reinforcements came in from the north quickly, two Mig-29’s, Trigger followed Prez’s advice, breaking off and letting the Su-33 go. 

Trigger opened up coms. “Spare Eleven, status.”

“Uhhh, good! Good!” Tabloid laughed a little. “Thanks.”

Trigger just tapped the mic as a response and went back in, at least he was getting good dogfighting practice. Speaking of which…his radar lock warning was going off. Then the missile alert. He waited for the missile to get close, then rolled into a quick dive, evening out and banking right. The missile flew by them, the lock broken. He let his lock settle on the Erusean that had spiked him, another SU-33, which proceeded to bug out and dived. Trigger just smiled. 

“The enemy seems to think that our airforce is concentrated on this base!” Tabloid spoke up again on the coms. He seemed much more cheerful now. 

Prez chuckled. “It really does seem that way…”

“Everything on the ground is fake. Can’t the enemy see that?” Full Band cut in again, he just sounded annoyed. 

Tabloid laughed. “Means they’re that convincing!”

Trigger and Prez both got a chuckle out of that, to be fair, Tabloid was right. All of this was going exactly as the top brass wanted, so, as long as they weren’t shot down, they’d be fine. Trigger then eyed some bombers on his right…that were continuing towards the actual runway. 

“Uh oh…we may have a problem.” Prez spoke into the coms. “Bandog we’ve got bogeys over the runway.”

The coms opened again. “Spare Fifteen shut up…thats the whole point.”

Then the bombs dropped, one hitting right next to the control tower. “Eat my ass Bandog! I mean the actual goddamn runway!”

“Shit Enemy just hit the Control tower!”

“Hey! Whats with all the shaking?!”

The coms filled with shouts and screams of surprise. Commader McKinsey however, just sounded annoyed. 

“Do not let the enemy get closer! Are you trying to kill me?” Trigger heard the commander put down his com and hang up.

Bandog came back onto coms. “Shall I order them to shoot down all?”

No response.

“Commander, Commander McKinsey?…Damn it.” Trigger heard Bandog over the coms, typing something at his station. 

“Spare Squadron, listen up, shoot down everything carrying bombs.”

The FCS unlocked, Prez gasped in excitement. 

“Weapons free. You’re cleared to engage, show no mercy.”

“Copy that Bandog! Spare fifteen, Engaging, lets rack up the kills Trigger!” Prez pumped a fist in excitement. “What do you want control over?”

“Take the aam’s, leave guns and standard missiles to me.” He chuckles. “Don’t worry I’ll set you up nicely.” he pulled back on the stick and they started to climb again. 

“Alright, I’m assuming command. All aircraft, support me.” Count finally spoke up again, still trying to be the top dog.

“Who’s gonna dance to your lyin' tune?” Champ cut in, probably also gunning for the top spot.

Count just laughed. “I’ll show you all how it’s done.”

Trigger chuckled as he turned on Brownie’s radio and listened in. “-firmed hit, Noli Squadron, status?”

“Noli one, Bay is still at half capacity. Three and Four report the same.”

“Copy, make another pass on the main runway, if you still have bombs, hit the secondary runway again.”

“Roger that. Noli Squadron, engaging.”

Trigger grinned, he made note of the location of Noli Squadron on his radar, then pulled back on the stick hard, they climbed at highspeed for a minute. “Prez! I’ve got a prime target for you, three bombers. We’re going to dive them.”

Prez’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Oh hell yes!” She flicked the master arm back on as she prepared. 

He pushed the stick forward, having them level out. The variable wing mechanism automatically activated and extended. Giving them more lift, meaning more time to set up the shot. 

High Roller butt in over the coms. “Gunna have to rethink the odds, anyone want to bet who will get the first kill?” Trigger now understood the Tac name.

A few of the other pilots threw in some bets. Some for Tabloid, others for Count, even one for Trigger.

Count spoke up. “I say it’ll be myself.”

Prez grinned. “Bet you some instant coffee that It’ll be Trigger and I.”

High Roller gave a surprised grunt. “What makes you say that?”

“Because we’ve already got them in our sights. Hit it Trigger! I’m not loosing!” Prez kicked the seat in front of her. 

“Yes ma’am.” He laughed, punched the stick forward, brought them into the dive, and set up the shot. Their wings folded back in as the speed picked up. 

“Come on….Come on…a little bit closer. Keep it up Trigger, they haven’t noticed us yet.” Prez had her finger on the trigger as they closed in. 

He picked up the speed a little bit, bracing as he did. He missed this kinda flying, hadn’t been able to do it since training, his flight instructor told them to come up with their own styles and try it out. 

Prez was hyper focused, but impressed. Trigger had brought them at the perfect angle, so they were on top of and behind the bombers. She smirked, then the aams locked on. “Spare Fifteen, Fox two.” She pulled the trigger, three missiles dropped out of the bay doors, then ignited. Speeding towards the bombers in a group like angry wasps, then split. Gutting all three bombers right through center. Each one detonated into a ball of fire. She let out a whoop. “HELL YEAH! Three bombers down! Suck on that!”

Brownie’s radio crackled to life once more. “We just lost Noli Two through Four! The hell happened?”

“Escorts, stay close to the bombers of Noli Squadron, they need to finish their runs if this mission will be successful. We can deal another crippling blow to their airforce here!”

Bandog chimed in, “Can confirm, three hostile bombers down, good work Spare fifteen!”

High Roller laughed as a few squad members groaned. 

Prez just chuckled. “I better be seeing a big payout from this High Roller!”

Trigger banked left into a roll, getting on the tail of an Mig-29. He gave a few taps of the machine gun, followed by two standard missiles. The Mig rolled to avoid the shots, but didn’t notice the missiles until it was too late, the first sheered off it’s right wing. The second went right into its engines, ripping the rear fuselage apart, sending the plane spiraling down. He saw the pilot eject. 

Prez noticed too, “Bandog, confirm another bogey down, pilot ejected, might want to send someone out to get him once this is all cleaned up. I know we have plenty of open cells.”

A few squadron members chuckled at that. 

“Confirmed, Spare Fifteen, bandit splashed.”

Trigger smiled as they searched for more bombers. They could finally fight back, that was a blessing for sure. 

“Trigger, keep an eye on your head count, we can compare later.” Count’s smug voice came over the radio again. 

Tabloid chuckled and cut in, “Yeah. I’m betting that report will get dressed up real pretty. Especially since they are self reported!”

Prez just huffed. “If I could do that in my corps I would’ve been fucking rich.” She pointed over to their left. “Hey Tabloid, Spare Eleven, how you holding up?”

Trigger noticed Tabloid at a higher altitude on their left, and climbed up to fly in formation with him for a moment. Tabloid looked over quickly, then nodded and gave an okay motion with his free hand. “Could be worse, at least we can actually defend ourselves.”

Prez nodded, then paused. “So…whats up with the lines on everyone’s tails?”

The coms crackled as Full Band cut in. “Allow me to educate you.” He cleared his throat. “In this unit, you get your tail marked with scratches.” He pauses, letting his statement sink in. “So, the more scratches, the more heinous the crime. They’re called sin lines.”

Prez just scoffed. “What kinda sin did I commit? I’m just a mercenary.”

“Well…you two have three scratches right? Well…Trigger is Harling’s murderer.” 

Trigger just glared at the sky and huffed in response.

Prez looked at Trigger in worry, she could tell what that meant, Trigger was pissed. 

“A bomber's at high altitude. Stop watching your own asses and look up.”

Prez looked around for a bit. “Not….really…seeing one?” She checked the radar, and raised an eyebrow. It was far off, probably in the clouds. “You got an altitude check on that Bandog?”

“Just go shoot it down Spare Fifteen.”

Prez just frowned. “Jeez, fine.” She closed the coms and looked over to Trigger. “Hey, you alright?”

He held up a hand, tilting it back and forth. 

“Ah…so so. I getcha.” Prez nodded slowly. “How about we blow off some steam up here?”

He paused, then chuckled. “Bomber up high, right?”

“Yeeeeeep.” She chuckles. “Some escorts too.”

Trigger pulled back on the stick as he smiled more. They climbed as he increased their speed.

“We’re getting closer…” Prez armed the aam’s once more. “Looks like three escorts in total. I’d say four though, just to be sure. Could be one hiding in the clouds.” 

“Copy, thank you.” Trigger’s smile held. He made a good pick to bring Prez along. His luck was looking a little better with her around. Just as his thoughts wandered, targets showed up on his HUD. Two Mig-29’s, one SU-33, and a Tu-160. They were in a standard formation, escorts up front, bomber in the rear. 

Trigger maxed out the throttle. Smiling as he did. “First volley is all yours Prez.”

Prez chuckled. “You sure? I may steal all your kills, I’ve got three right now, compared to your one.”

“We’ll see about that.” Trigger got the standard missiles ready. Waiting for his moment to strike. They came into range, and Prez pulled the trigger. Four aam’s dropped out of the bay, then rushed for their targets. The escorts all popped chaff and flares, sending all four missiles wide off their targets. They spread out to try and surround the X-02. But Trigger just flew right past them. 

“Hang on!” He yelled back to Prez. 

“What??”

Trigger smiled, He hadn’t be able to do this for a while, but this plane could take it. He opened the flaps to full, reducing their speed quickly. Then he pulled back on the stick. The sudden drop in speed caused the variable wings to extend, then they stalled out for second, just a bit behind the bomber. Trigger laughed as he finished the post stall maneuver by punching the throttle, pulling back on the stick more. They flipped back, now on the bomber's tail, Trigger opened fire with the machine gun. Ripping the bomber to pieces. “That’s two.” He watched as the bomber went down, Brownie’s radio crackled into life again. 

“This is Noli One, we’re going down…bailing out.” There was a pause with labored breathing. “Wait….a Wyvern…with…Three…lines?”

Trigger increased their speed and got on the tail of one of the Mig-29 escorts as the variable wings folded back in. Firing two missiles at close range, then rolling into a climb. 

“Spare fifteen splashed a bandit.” Bandog cut into the coms.

Trigger held up his hand with three fingers showing to Prez. “Tied.”

Prez laughed. “Ohhhh I see how it is!” She readied herself for the next chance.

He pushed on the stick and pulled them into a dive, the remaining escorts were confused and shaken. The X-02, was right on top of them. 

Prez fired first, tapping twice, two aam’s dropped out of the weapons bay, right for the last two escorts. The Mig-29 went up in flames as the aam struck its thrusters. The Su-33 popped chaff and flares, and banked left.

Trigger was right on them, using superior mobility and speed to get right on the tail of the Su-33. One missile away, and a burst of machine gun fire, the Erusean jet was in flames, plummeting towards the ground. He held up his hand again, four fingers splayed out. “Still tied.”

“At least he’s decent at what he’s known for.” Champ cut in on the radio.

“I wouldn’t go that far, targets that slow aren’t a challenge. Don’t let it go to your head murderer.” Count replied, smug as ever.

Prez just groaned. “Oh my god…Count the moment we are back on the ground I’m going to kick your ass so hard you’ll be tasting dirt for the next week!”

“Woah woah! Didn’t mean it that way, jeez.”

“Oh! Really what way was it meant to be?”

Coms were silent, then the sound of someone swallowing and clearing their throat came through. 

“Thats what I thought Count.” Prez closed the coms and huffed. “Stuck up ass. Most of these fuckers grind my gears.”

“Multiple bandits inbound. They got bombers and support.” Bandog marked the bombers on their radar. Trigger saw they were broken into four groups. He noted the location of the most northern group, with two bombers. Banked, and started climbing to match altitude.

“All aircraft, follow me! That means you too murderer.” Count took on a more, demanding tone now.

“Jeez, now he thinks he’s squadron leader!” Tabloid jeered at Count’s attempt to take control.

“Shove it Count! We’ll do our own thing here thank you.” Prez stuck out her tongue in Count’s general direction, even if he was a klick west of them.

Trigger gave a chuckle. “Four to Four, still tied.” He checked on his weapons, he still had plenty of missiles and ammo. “One away from Ace.”

“Hmm, That’ll change after this next group. I’m catching onto your tricks Trigger.” She huffed. “You could have told me you know how to post stall you know?” She froze for a second then groaned. “Right…silent type. Let me guess, you’re not one to brag.”

A slow nod was his only response.

“Oh of course. I’m just going to have to figure out things on my own.” She huffed, arming aam’s again. “We’re coming up on that next group.”

The Squad radio crackled again, “Trigger don’t get shot down now! I got good money riding on your survival.” High Roller laughed. “Some guys have got big money on you going down, so watch your back.”

“Spare Seven, Shut up.” 

Trigger froze for a second, this was news to him! The other inmates were betting on what?

Prez paled slightly. “I’m sorry WHAT?!” She pushed her mic closer to her mask. “EXCUSE ME!? You’re betting on our survival! What the fuck!?”

High Roller just kept on laughing. “Oh! Don’t be so harsh about it Prez! You too Trigger.” He makes an annoyed grunt. “Hang on…This guy is on my tail. Look, it’s tradition around here, even Bandog is in on it!”

“Spare Seven I believe I told you to Shut. Up.” Bandog almost growled out the words.

“Yeah, Yeah, whatever.” High Roller cut off his coms again. 

Trigger just shook his head, readying himself and getting back in focus, he then realized that he had past under the bombers, he groaned and flipped the X-02 around, then rolled to right themselves again. “Motherfucker…” He punched the throttle, quickly catching up with the enemy bomber group.

“This is a pretty nice ride. It’s been serviced pretty good.” Tabloid sounded actually impressed, even whistling a bit.“I mean I gotta say, even I’m impressed. I’m used to some pretty top of the line planes too.” 

Prez cut in as she armed aam’s and fired, two missiles rushed towards their targets. A bomber and an escort. Both burst into flames. “Hell yeah! Two more! Looks like I made ace today!”

“Can’t believe these things used to be scrap. Just what kind of magic does she have up her sleeves anyway?”

Hang on what? That was a little worrying, Trigger cut into the coms this time. “These planes we’re all flying were scrap?”

“Mhmmm, barely held together frames. Shells of their former selves, but our resident mechanic got them all up and running.” Tabloid’s voice was full of impressed pride. 

“I don’t know what her problem is, acting like she’s royalty or something.” High Roller sounded honestly confused.

Trigger got into range and fired two missiles at the remaining bomber. The first struck near the bomb bay, ripping it open.

“Ha ha! Thats because she’s the Scrap Queen!” Count cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Trigger’s second missile blew off one of the bomber’s wings from the already weakened fuselage, it started spinning as it plummeted to the ground.

Prez smiled as she saw her chance to pick off the remaining escorts.

“Queen! More like a bad tempered tomboy! Like Prez!”

“Hey! I’m right here you ass! I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again Champ!” Prez angrily yelled into her mic. Distracted for but a moment.

Trigger used that moment to get behind the left most escort, then rip it to shreds with the machine gun.

“I’d like to see you try tomboy!” Champ was livid.

“As I said, already did asshole! How about another bruise on your dumb face!” Prez laughed.

Trigger rolled the X-02, getting behind another escort, the Su-33 broke right, Trigger followed, waiting for a lock, hitting a high G turn.

“Ahhhhhhhh Trigger! What the hell!” Prez quickly braced herself, not at all prepared for the high G turn. 

Trigger got his lock, and released two missiles. He was right on the Su-33’s tail, so they had no chance to evade. The Erusean fighter burst into flames, plummeting to the ground. 

“Tied again.” His voice dripping with confidence. “Now we’ve both made ace status today.”

Prez sat there, a little shocked. “Have you always been this smug?”

“Only in the air.” He chuckles. “Also you’re fun to talk to.”

She just sighed. “Okay okay, I get it. You’re showing off to me aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Really? All the spins, loops, and the post stall weren’t showing off.”

“No.” He paused as he checked his radar. The other members of Spare Squadron were swarming the other bombers. However, One enemy group had slipped by and was already dropping their payload. “It’s just how I fly.” He brought the X-02 into a low dive, dropping in altitude to get below the clouds and find the bombers. 

“Two bombers remaining, the targets are still active, keep up the attack!” Bandog gruffly yelled over the coms. Bombs landed near the actual base again.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you tryi-” The base commander’s coms were cut suddenly.

Trigger squinted to see if the base was actually hit.“Wilco. Commander McKinsey, Please maintain silence for the moment.” Bandog suddenly cut off the coms.

Prez laughed. “Where the hell does an AWAC’s get off telling a base commander to shut up! Oh this is hilarious!” 

Trigger's eyes widened in shock. He wondered what kind of power Bandog had to be able to shut down a base commander, that or everything was a mess in the chain of command here. 

“Trigger got most of them.” Tabloid chuckled. 

“That was dumb luck Tabloid!” Count cut in angrily as Tabloid laughed. 

“Spare 15 don’t take all the fun away from your comrades!” Bandog cut into the coms once more, causing Tabloid to start laughing even harder. He quickly turned off his coms. “Last two bombers are still active Spare Squadron, engage. You take them out and the escorts have no reason to be here.”

“First come, First served!” Count yelled out, Trigger saw Count bank and start heading for the two bombers that slipped by. 

Trigger hit the throttle to max as they headed for the last group. 

“Why in the world would someone make a squadron of convicts? Gotta be some kind of reason?” Tabloid popped up again on the coms still giggling a little, “Anyone got any ideas?”

“Cheap, expendable pilots maybe? Just need to worry about planes, and even then with the amount of scrap here anything can be fixed easily.” Prez surprised many of the cons with her answer, even if it was a little dark. “Don’t really know how well it will work in the long run though.”

“The paper-mâché strategy at the base seems to be doing the trick.” Tabloid cut in with his own counter. 

“Eh…possibly, but it’ll only last so long. There will come a point when Erusea will figure out the base is a trick and not actually that important. Either that or they will come to a point where they feel they’ve done enough damage.”

“You make a good point Prez. Guess every man and his dog has an idea about how to win the war.” He chuckles. “I’d love to discuss this more, but…I feel Bandog is going to come after us.”

“Probably best, Trigger and I are almost on those last two bombers.”

“What the hell! Come on!” Count sounded frustrated. Determined to prove himself as the top dog still. "Where are you? I want a piece of this action!"

Trigger just grinned, the two bombers only had one escort, it banked right to intercept them. But the X-02 was already locked on. 

The rear bomber’s tail gun opened fire, tracers flew by Trigger’s head. He rolled right, then left, and as the missile lock rang in his ear, fired a missile. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Prez grinned, slamming the trigger. An aam went flying for the other bomber. 

Trigger chuckled as both bombers were gutted, their bomb bays detonating. He noticed that the escort had gotten behind them, an Su-33 by the looks of it. The missile alert went off, and Trigger rolled, then banked left, hard.

“Ahhhhhh Damn it!” Prez was working hard, using the ECM suite in the X-02 to it’s fullest, she jammed the missile and the Erusean pilot’s radar making it harder for the Su-33 to target them. “We gotta get behind him!”

Trigger nodded, but this Su-33 was good. Trigger rolled into a dive, dodging another missile. With the Erusean fighter still on their tail. “Ah! Damn it!” The missile alert wined in Prez’s ears. She popped flares. “Trigger they’re right on us!”

Trigger nodded, then pulled back on the stick, turning the dive into a climb, maxing out the throttle. “Still on us?” 

Machine gun tracers flew over their canopy. “YES! FUCK!” Prez popped flares again. “Falling behind because we have the better speed though!”

“Good.” 

“What do you mean good!”

Trigger simply chuckled. “Ready?”

“What?! NO! NOOOO! Trigger! You better fucking not be doing what I think!”

He just laughed. “Probably am.” Then, he cut the engines, the X-02 stalled, Trigger slammed the stick left, turning them down into a roll, sending them plummeting at the Su-33. He kicked the throttle in, G forces hitting hard. 

Prez screeched in frustration. “YOU ASS!” 

As they tore towards the Su-33, he took a deep breath. Waiting to launch a missile. A simple midair joust, the Su-33 climbing to reach them, and their X-02 diving down. His targeting HUD beeped, confirming a lock on, he pulled the trigger. “Missile away.”

Prez gasped, firing an aam. “Oh no you don’t! He’s mine!”

Trigger’s missile kept the lead for a bit, but Prez’s aam caught up quickly. The two missile sped towards their target, side by side, Prez’s missile almost getting just a bit ahead by every millisecond. 

The Su-33 opened fire with it’s machine guns, tracers went flying by the X-02. Trigger rolled the plane and fired back, his own shots going wide. Prez’s aam finally got ahead, but Trigger’s missile picked up in speed the closer it got.

“Come on, come on!” Prez grit her teeth, this was going to be close. 

Trigger squeezed off another burst of machine gun fire, then rolled again, angling the nose left. Just as he did. Both missiles connected. Each missile went into one of the Su-33’s two intakes. ripping the fuselage apart. The Su-33 froze in midair for just a second. Then flipped, falling towards the ground. Trigger pulled back on the stick, so they evened out right at three thousand on the altimeter.

“All Targets confirmed eliminated.” Bandog took over the coms once more.

“Hell yeah! Still alive Harling’s murderer? Then dinner’s on me tonight!” High Roller just sounded pleased. 

Trigger sighed, wondering how much money had been bet on him. He assumed it was a lot…with how happy High Roller sounded, who wouldn’t?

“Cut the chatter Spare Squadron, mission complete. RTB.” 

Prez scoffed. “Return to base my ass.” She chuckles as her voice takes on a deeper sarcastic tone. “Oh look! We’re already here!” 

Trigger laughed as well. 

“Trigger’s still with us, must have the devil in his corner.” Trigger frowned at that, if everyone stopped calling him murderer and saying he was the devil, it would do wonders for his mental state. “Spare 7? What happens if the one you’ve bet on dies while landing?”

“Eh?” Trigger squinted his eyes in confusion, just staring forward

“Then you win. So what? You’re not done?” High Roller sounded a little worried. 

“Just checking.” Bandog closed the coms. 

“What the fuck!” Prez growled and punched the side of her seat. “Dies while landing! What kinda bullshit is that?!”

Looking back at her, Trigger just shrugged, he lifted one hand up, flashing five fingers, closing to a fist, then two. 

“Yeah…same.” She chuckled. “Looks like it’s a tie today Trigger. I’ll get you next time, you hear?”

He nodded in response, happy to have someone who felt the same way as he did here. At least he didn’t have to get all the questions of, ‘what are you in for’ like he was worrying about before. But, then again, the base commander outed him pretty damn fast. He sighed sightly, and just took time to fly around, they were calling the squadron to the runway by squad callsign, so he and Prez were going be last. 

Taking a deep breath, he forced the adrenaline coursing through him to calm. It had been a while since he had done a joust like that. His instructor loved doing that. Told them that when a dogfight got to that point, it was always a meaningful battle. He could see a few parachutes on the ground. He knew there was no way the Eruseans would be getting away though, between the guard dogs, the guards, and the fact that the base was surrounded by mountains on one side, and the sea on the other. They would have to hide out in the dummy runway, or just wait for the guards to come pick them up. Trigger found it kinda funny, but sad. Any Erusean who was shot down would have learned today that this entire place was a trick. 

Though…wasn’t he in the same place? He was trapped here as the results of a trick, a foul play. He knew his missile didn’t hit Mother Goose One. He didn’t shoot down Harling. Then again. Where could have the missile come from. The only one close to him was…Clown? Right? Wait..wasn’t there an F-“Spare Fifteen? Do you read?” 

Trigger jolted. How much time had passed? “Copy.”

“Spare Fifteen, this is the control tower. Make your landing check.”“Roger that.” 

“We don’t want a wreck blocking the runway.”Trigger glared at the tower, now regretting his worry from earlier. The ATC was a jerk.

“Spare Fifteen, you have permission to land. Wind conditions are calm.” 

He really wished he could give the ATC a piece of his mind. But, he was a prisoner here. Probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

As he lined up with the runway and brought down their speed, and he deployed the landing gear. The ATC kept butting in on the coms, telling him to do this, do that. He knew what he was doing though, if he crashed, then oh well, too bad. But, instead, he brought the plane in for a nice, comfortable landing. 

“Right, standby for your next sortie.” The ATC finally closed the channel with an annoyed huff.

Only for Bandog to cut in. “I lost a lot of money for that Trigger! Don’t forget.”

Trigger just rolled his eyes. Wondering why Bandog was blaming him for making a bad bet. 

Prez let out a sigh of relief. “Okay…that was fun. But Damn Trigger, where the hell did you learn to fly like that?”

“IUN Flight Combat School. Run by an old Merc.”

“Really?” Prez’s eyes lit up as she took off her helmet. “Well then, that explains a lot.”

“Mhmm.” Trigger brought them back to the hangers and started bringing the X-02 into a shutdown status, making sure to turn off Brownie’s old radio too. It was in a place no one would find it. So he wasn’t to worried. Plus, if he got some time and supplies, he could do some painting. Had to get his emblem on the tail anyways. It wouldn’t be his plane if it didn’t have his orange wolf with the revolver. 

When they came to a stop High Roller was exchanging and handing over items and money with the other prisoners. Prez opened the canopy and hopped out onto the tarmac with practiced ease. “Hey! Where’s my stuff High Roller!”

Trigger just watched for a bit as Prez pushed her way through the crowd. Pulling off his helmet and unbuckling himself from the X-02

“Stuff! What stuff?”

“My winnings you ass! I bet Trigger and I would get the first kill. Bet some instant coffee.” She unzipped one of her pouches on the shoulder of her flight suit and pulled out two packets of instant coffee. “I believe I have some earnings to collect.”

High Roller paled. “Oh…Right…well you see. Coffee doesn’t really have an exact value…”

Prez’s smile turned into a wicked glare. Trigger just chuckled, causing everyone to turn and look at him. “Are you sure?”

Prez got a twinkle in her eye as everyone turned back to her. “Yeah…are you sure about that High Roller? I think any asshat on this base knows the value of a good, warm, refreshing cup of coffee. And this ain’t the cheap stuff. This is high quality coffee, almost as good as a french press. This stuff, is priceless.”

The tarmac went dead silent. The fact that Prez had instant coffee was already a big enough bet for the other inmates, but for that amount of quality? Well, Prez might as well have bet a sold gold bar. 

“Well, you might as well give her what she earned bud.” Tabloid was the one who broke the silence. Thumbs in the waist pockets of his flight suit. 

High Roller just groaned. “Alright, Alright.” He reached into his breast pocket. And pulled out a bundle of twenty dollar bills. “Here. It’s yours fair and square.” 

Prez’s eyes lit up and she quickly snatched the money, then ran off, back to the X-02. 

Trigger was walking around it, checking for any damages. He noticed one of the wings got a little nicked by a machine gun round, but that was it honestly. 

“Trigger! I got us some cash!” She took two of the twenties and stuffed them into the breast pocket on his flight suit. “Here, your cut of the loot.” She smiled and punched him in the arm. “If this keeps up I’ll be making bank. I’m glad you picked me.”

He smiled back, and held up a fist, nodding to it. 

She nodded and gave him the fistbump he wanted. “So…now what?”

Answering with a shrug, he sighed. They’d probably take them back to their cells, but right now, everyone was too busy chatting, exchanging stories, bet winnings, and a few smokes. Until, the door to the inside of the base slammed open.

The Base commander strode onto the tarmac with a look of superiority. “Did I say you could take down the enemy? Throw anyone who disobeyed into solitary. That should give you time to think about listening to orders next time!”

Everyone froze.

And slowly turned towards the base commander.

He motioned for the Guards to get to work, turned, and left.

Trigger sighed and facepalmed, dragging his hand down his face.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Prez yelled out. 

That…was the best way to put it as everything out on the tarmac devolved into chaos.


	3. Questions

Silence

Nothing but goddamn silence.

No window, no clock, no bed. 

Not even a goddamned chair. 

Trigger hated this. Solitary was a goddamn nightmare! This was torture, it had to be some form of torture. He hated it. Wait…he already said that. 

Trigger sighed and his stomach growled. Since they didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast due to the attack yesterday. His internal clock was all messed up. He had no idea how long it had been, He assumed a day? He got really tired at one point and fell asleep. 

Thank God for his genes. He inherited the ability to sleep anywhere, so he was actually able to get a good amount of sleep. How many hours, he didn’t know. But he felt rested, so…That had to mean something right?

God he was hungry, and thirsty. He wished he would have gotten the chance to drink something before they threw him in here, but they didn’t. He was still in his flight suit too, and that wasn’t helping. He would have thought someone would have gone through his things. Turns out they didn’t, and he didn’t know that there was still the group picture of Mage and Golem’s blackjack game. Clown, Brownie, Knocker, and even Sky Keeper was all a part of it. 

He…missed them. His heart sank when he saw the picture. Trigger wondered if they actually missed him at all. 

Knocker wasn’t even his flight lead, but was still helpful, always willing to lend a hand with repairs. He would even offer tips on Trigger’s flying. When they landed after Harling was killed though…Knocker came up and decked him in the face. Then chewed out Clown, Clown just shifted the blame back to Trigger.

Clown…was a good flight lead. Well, so he thought. Trigger’s view of Clown was very muddled now. Someone he once looked up to as an honest, caring, and fun flight lead had now turned into a image of someone who just gave half assed answers. 

“I was closest…what a load of crap.”

There it was again…He’d been talking to himself more and more. The last time he had done it was when he was a kid. His throat was even a little raw from his full on rant that he had when he was first thrown in here. 

Talking, was not his strong suit. Before, everyone in Mage and Golem squadrons were very understanding. They wouldn’t question when Trigger went quiet for long periods of time. 

Everything changed when Harling’s plane was shot down, they just saw it as him being guilty…if only Sea Goblin had gotten to the president with no issues.

If only Colonel Johnson hadn’t been killed by the missile strike.

If only damned Harling would have just continue on out of the AO. Everything would have been fine.

If only Erusea didn’t have control over the Arsenal Birds. 

If only that damned Princess had understood that the space elevator was for something greater than just simple land. She was worried about something as simple as borders, when the space elevator was about mankind reaching the stars, together.

If only Brownie hadn’t… 

“No, she’s gone.” He rubbed at his eye, it stung.

But if she was there, at the lighthouse she could have helped. She would have vouched for him.

“She’s gone.”

Brownie would have helped too! She would have been there with him watching his back.

“I wasn’t there for her…why would she be there for me? I left her…She deserved better. Instead she died in an insignificant war. In a damaged plane trying to just retreat. With no support.” Trigger’s lip quivered.

They had even heard the pilot who had killed her over the radio. Someone wanted them to know that they had killed her. Not a drone.She had called for him. She was so scared, Trigger had heard the pure fear in her voice. Something he had never heard from her before. She was always confident and headstrong, it was completely different when she called for him. His breaths were coming in short now. 

Him…

Not Knocker, Not Golem Squadron.

Not even just Mage squadron. 

She called specifically for him. 

And he did nothing to save her. 

Trigger felt the tears running down his cheek before he could even process that he was crying. 

His friend was gone…She wasn’t coming back. 

His whole body shook, tears kept rolling down his cheek, his chest hurt.

Brownie trusted him with so much. Yet he couldn’t do a damned thing. 

Trigger could barely breathe between the sobs. The picture in his hand dug it’s way into his very soul. Crushing it utterly. 

What good was he. Stuck in here. Rotting away. 

The tears kept coming, hot and staining his skin. Like the blood that was on his hands. 

He deserved to be here. Harling’s blood was on his hands…wasn’t it? Whether he wanted it or not, he killed Harling.

Death was all that he could create.

Harling was dead. It was so simple. Just a pull of the trigger. Two missiles between the old president’s eyes.

What good was he? Could he ever do anything else?

His sins were clear. 

He should just…

Die.

Trigger blinked quickly and shook his head, trying to bring himself back into focus on reality. Using his free hand to wipe away the tears that still sat in the corners of his eyes. He sniffed loudly. Then took a deep breath. 

He’d lost track of time again. 

This solitary confinement was getting to him. There was nothing he could do to escape it though, was there? He had to ‘atone for his crimes’. Whatever bullshit that was.

Right then, He kinda wished the people Osea had gotten their wish and executed him. He’d probably be better off dead right now. At least he wouldn't have to be in this hell. He wouldn’t be starving, he wouldn’t have to worry about his throat being so dry. 

His old flight instructor once told him that there was a special place in heaven for pilots. Where they could always fly free. No one and nothing to hold them down. Just the freedom of flying into the deep dark blue sky, forever. 

Trigger really would have preferred that over this bullshit.

Suddenly, the door clicked.

Trigger hurriedly stuffed the picture back into his flight suit. 

The door slowly opened, and a guard stepped in. “Alright Murderer, your solitary time is done. Come on.” He kicked Trigger in the shin. 

Trigger winced and glared at the guard. His eyes must have been really red from all the crying he did. Because the guard immediately stepped back. Looking rather fearful. Trigger slowly got himself to his feet. “So…where to then?”

The guard just motioned to the door, Trigger obliged them and walked out. A couple of other guards shoved him down the corridor. He sighed and carried on with a slight limp, he hoped this wouldn’t be to interesting.

________________

444 Air Base

July 2, 2019 11:15

It turned out, his answer was simple, debriefing, shower, change of clothes, food, then shoved out into the yard. The other Spare Squadron members were milling about, minus Champ. Trigger even noticed that on one end of the yard was a open gate that led to the hangers. Maybe he could get a chance to work on the X-02. Set things up more to his liking, maybe start painting hi-

“TRIGGER!” Trigger’s head snapped up as he was called out, all of Spare Squadron looked over at him. He started panicking a little. Everyone was looking right at him. They all had different looks, but he could get this overall sense of judgement. He swallowed slowly, his throat went dry again. He stood there for a bit, eyes darting back and forth, scanning for whoever had yelled out his callsign. 

“There you are!” A tap on his left shoulder and Prez came into view a huge smile on her face. “Come on, lets get away from these losers.” She motioned for him to follow. 

Trigger tilted his head slightly. Wondering what she was on about, but, followed none the less. He walked slowly behind her. Trigger bit his lip slightly as everyone just stared. He saw Count, who was glaring in his direction. 

Prez led them up to the open gate and nodded to the guards. “We’re going to go check on our plane, make sure everything is up and running so we can better fend off the next attack.”

The guards just nodded, one of them huffed in annoyance, but that was it. 

Prez just walked right by them. Trigger followed, he wasn’t stopped or anything. He kept looking back in confusion.

“I know right! What kinda prison just lets their inmates walk over to airplanes freely?” Prez chuckled. “But sure enough if you tell them you’re going to go work on your plane, they won’t ask a thing.” She shrugged. “Way better than solitary, am I right?”

Trigger shivered and frowned. 

“Ah, I take it your time in there went about as well as mine.” She sighed heavily, slowing down her walk so she was walking side by side with Trigger. “You wanna talk about it?”

Trigger tilted his head. Did he? He had gone through a lot in there, and while Prez did seem nice, he didn’t fully trust her. Well…a least he felt he shouldn’t trust her. He’d only known her for about a week or so. But…hell she did actually seem genuine, and had been helping him out a lot. He looked to Prez, pointed at her, then back to himself, then a single thumbs up. 

“Ah, only if I do too right?”Trigger nodded. Shrugging slightly and making a bridge with his fingers between his hands.

“Hmmm, yeah you’re right, it’s only fair. Who’s going first?”

Trigger raised an eyebrow, and pointed to her. 

Prez laughed. “Ohhhh! I see how it is!” She spun around and started walking backwards, arms behind her head, a grin across her face. “I mean I was the one to bring it up wasn’t I?” She pouted slightly as she walked.

Trigger kept following her, he squinted slightly at her. 

“Just thinking, thats all.” She mumbled out the response, Prez’s eyes were tilted slightly down, seemingly scanning the ground.

Trigger gave her all the time she needed. Letting just a quiet stroll relax him. This wasn’t like solitary though, where it was so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat. This was just a natural quiet. He could hear the wind rush across the runway, the waves rolling against the rocks, a few birds singing in the nearby trees, even the dull roar of a single plane in the distance, probably on patrol. 

“Alright, I’ll talk about it. But!” She pointed at him, “You’re not allowed to tell anyone! Okay! I’m only telling you this because I trust you. You tell anyone and you’re dead Trigger!” She poked him in the shoulder. 

Trigger nodded quickly. “Same goes for you.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t dare.” She grins again. “We good?”

“Yeah, won’t tell a soul.”

Prez’s grin widened. “Good.” She led the way to the last hanger. “Come on, lets get set up, then we can have our chat.” Prez turned back around and jogged to the last hanger. 

Trigger jogged slowly after her, smiling as the Strike Wyvern came into view. He’d only flown in it once so far, but he really was loving it.

Prez came up to him, handing him a pencil and notepad. “Here, write down whatever you need, if they have it, the guards will get it.”

Trigger gently took the items from Prez’s hand, staring at the notepad for a moment he though about what he would need. He looked at the Strike Wyvern’s tail and thought about it. Then started writing, cardstock, orange spray paint, black paint, a brush, white paint, red paint. He tilted his head, wrote in some maintenance gear. Then went over to Prez, handing her the notepad. 

She simply nodded, wrote in her own items, then handed it to the guard, who took the notepad, and walked off, mumbling as they read through the list. Prez just scoffed once the guy was out of earshot. “Wow…they are really confident about being able to shoot us down.”

“Could also have the planes rigged.”

Prez looked at Trigger in shock. “No…No way.”

Trigger just shrugged, he stared at Prez and waggled his eyebrows. 

She frowned slightly. “No no you’re right. When I think about it…it makes sense.” She sighs. “Alright, ready to get into the rough stuff.”

Trigger nodded, he walked over, hopping up and sitting on a nearby tool cabinet. 

Prez tilted her head, but did the same, joining him up on the cabinet. “Well…all of this…it’s actually really rough on me.” She laughed. 

Trigger raised an eyebrow and pointed to her. 

“Yes! You ass!” She gently punched him in the arm. “I’m tough, but…when it comes to this, I’m not as tough as I’d like to be.” She thinks a bit, eyes looking up at the ceiling, kicking her legs forward slightly. “I became a mercenary for the money originally, I sent most of it to my family back home. Got a big old family, and they need the money.” She chuckled. “But, eventually it became really fun. I got really good at being a weapons system officer, too good some might say.” She grinned, but it quickly faded. “But, Monarch…he kinda stopped needing me as much. We got a big job, huge payout. Monarch used his money to get his hands on a nice brand spanking new F-22. That in itself was huge, the newest planes we hand before that were F-16s. I went from being Monarch’s WSO, to just his mechanic.” 

Trigger squinted at her slightly. Curious as to where this was going. 

“Look it’s a long story, so just bare with me.” Prez put her hands out in a mock defensive gesture, then put her hands down, slouching. “I was always a bit left out before. The rest of our squad was pretty close knit before I joined. Comic and Dip were nice. They’d talk to me every now and then, but…other than that they were always busy talking to each other.” She frowned slightly. “I never felt like I belonged. I was always just, second to Monarch.” She looked at Trigger. “You know?”

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. 

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I tired to connect with them more and more. But they just kept pushing me away. Monarch I could talk with, but after a while even he became disinterested.” Prez took on an angry pout, staring at the ground. “Never wanted to take me along to anything anymore. Always in the F-22. I started barely seeing Dip or Comic. I was lucky if I saw them once a week. Then as we were on our way to our next contract…Crimson.” The pout slowly disappeared, just becoming a blank stare. 

Trigger’s hand was already moving towards her shoulder before he could process it. He paused barely an inch away, uncertain of what to do.

Prez just glanced over at him, and put a hand up, shaking her head.

Trigger left her be, his hand slowly going back down to his lap. 

“I was…terrified. I saw Hitman break off to fight them, and I just wanted to be there with them, I had offered a few times to get my own plane, to fly alongside them. But, they didn’t want me. Then the missiles came, ripped a hole through the fuselage. I was barely able to bail out as our transport went down.” Her hand shook slightly, she quickly balled it up into a fist. “I hit the ground hard, but I was alright. The air battle was still going on, but I could see one of our helicopters searching for survivors. So, I fired a flare.” She paused, just a good minute of complete silence. “But…they left me.”

Trigger glared slightly, he was…angry. 

“I’m sure they just didn’t see the flare, hell it could have been anything. I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose. But…after all that time of just being, alone.” She frowned again. “It just broke me.” Prez took a deep breath. “Look, what I’m getting at is this. Solitary sucked. Like…fuck, I’m still shaking a bit from being in their so long. It felt like months. If thats what we get for flying and following orders? I know it’s going to be tough.”

It was Trigger’s turn to frown. This was it. She was just going to leave him to fly alone. Just like everyone el-

“But, you chose me.” Prez looked at Trigger. “You could have gotten anyone. But you chose me. You and I…we’re not here because of decisions we made. I know everyone calls you Harling’s murder, but I feel like thats bullshit. You don’t seem like you wanted to make that choice. We’re both here under pretenses we have no control over and some rich dudes in suits making a decision because it just gets them off.” She huffed. “I thought I would be locked away, never see my old corps or my family ever again. Nor did I think I would find anyone I would get along with.” She smiles, “So…thank you. For choosing me, even if it’s just for that one flight.”

Trigger looked at her, and shook his head. 

She tilted her head and squinted. “Eh?” 

He sighed slightly. “You’re sticking with me.”

Prez jumped, quickly sitting straight up. “Oh! Really?” She paused, “Really really?” She leaned forward, squinting slightly.

He chuckled and nodded, it was ironic that she was asking that now. 

“Shut up! I don’t want to get my chain yanked! It’s happened enough already!” She giggled. 

He raised his hands in front of him and shrugged. 

Prez giggled more. “Look! I’m serious! You keep this up and you’ll be stuck with me.” 

Trigger smiled, he wouldn’t mind that. He knew he would be here a while. With the way Spare Squadron was, he knew he wasn’t going to find many friends here. But Prez, Prez was alright. 

Prez paused, looking at him for a moment, then leaning back. “Ah! I…I, Huh…Well I…” She pursed her lips. “I…you’re serious?”

Trigger just nodded once more, raising one eyebrow then tilting his chin down.

“Alright, alright I get it!” She pouted and crossed her arms. 

They stayed like that a while. Trigger staring her directly in her eyes, and Prez defiantly staring back. 

Until Prez waggled her eyebrows. 

Trigger suddenly started giggling, then laughing. 

Prez scoffed out a chuckle, then started giggling as well. “Why is this so…” her giggling overtook her for a second. “Fucking….Funny?” Another fit of giggling took over.

Trigger kept laughing. it was a hearty and warm laugh, he hadn’t laughed like this in ages. All he could do was shrug in response to Prez’s question, which made her giggle even more. 

It took them a good four to five minutes to calm down again. Both of them slightly panting for breath. “So…on a more serious note…” Prez took a deep breath. “Why the paint?”

“For the plane.” He looked at her, one eye squinted, one eyebrow raised.

Prez rolled her eyes. “Well Duh!” She put her hands up in a mocking stance. “I meant more specifically what it’s for.”

“Ah…” He pointed to the tail, “Gotta paint my emblem.” 

Prez tilts her head. “Wait…you paint?”

Trigger nodded. 

“Huh…was not expecting that.” Prez thought a bit and looked back at the Strike Wyvern. “Where? The nose?”

He shook his head. “Tail.” He pointed at the tail wings, just below the sin lines. “Good fit, even if the tail folds down.”

Prez tilted her head in thought. “Could you do mine as well?”

Trigger looked at her, she was still staring at the tail fin, her eyes had a longing sense to them. “Absolutely. Sketch it out.” He thought for a moment, they had no idea when the guard would be back. “Leave it in the cockpit. I’ll do them both.”

Her eyes lit up. “Wait! Really? You mean it?!” She smiled brightly and hopped off the tool cabinet they were sitting on. 

He just nodded. She deserved at least that if she was going to be his WSO. Who knew how long this war would go on? 

Prez pumped her fist. “Yesssss! You are the best Trigger!” She giggled again and sprinted off. “I’ll be right back, gotta get a notepad. Dumb guard ran off with my other one.”

Sighing deeply, he leaned back against the wall. For some reason, the toolbox had become quite the comfortable seat. He hadn’t forgotten that he needed to tell his side of things soon. He would keep his promise, and his end of the deal. He kept staring at the X-02, it really was a beautiful plane. He wondered what other tricks it had up its sleeves. Or what he could do with the paint scheme, it was alright. But it could use a little something…more. 

He also wondered what would happen next. Prez made a good point, Erusea was going to figure out this base was a fake sooner or later. Hopefully later…He wanted to be back in the sky. At least one mo-

“Hey Dumbass! It’s for tools, not to be used as a fucking chair. Get off.” 

Trigger jumped as someone yelled at him. He immediately got off of the tool cabinet he was resting on, and looked towards the voice. 

The Scrap Queen had made her appearance once more. She limped towards him, and now that the base wasn’t under threat of being bombed to hell. He could tell, she didn’t look like she was supposed to be here either. Trigger raised an eyebrow at that. 

“Yeah my leg is all messed up, thank you, you don’t have to remind me.” She glared his way. 

He held up his hands defensively. “Sorry.”

The Scrap Queen paused. “Oh, it’s you.” She grinned. “Nah, I should apologize, I thought you were one of those bums.” She pointed back at the prison yard. “They’re always coming over here saying they want to do work on their planes. I just find them slacking off of course, nothing but bullshit and lies here.” She grunts in slight pain as she puts down her own toolbox. “You however, I know you’re just waiting for the shit you asked for.” She laughed. “You really confused the guards with all the paint you asked for.” 

A chuckle bubbled out of him, Trigger smiled and nodded. Hey, the paint was important to him, so he was going to ask, if he was missing some colors he’d make do with what he had. 

“You don’t talk much do you?” The Scrap Queen approached him. “Well thats better than most, then I know you won’t bad mouth me when I’m working on your plane.” She scoffed. “Idiots don’t even realize I can just rig their planes to fall apart.”

She was right, there was a reason you should always be nice to your mechanics. They made sure everything worked, they never asked for much. But, you piss them off, they’ll make your life hell. He chuckled slightly again.

“So, what do you think of her?” She pats the Strike Wyvern’s nose. “I was honestly surprised to see this thing here when they dragged me in. Thought I would give it a shot.” She paused. “To be fair…it ain’t a full blow X-02, some of it is cobbled together. But I feel like I did a good job.”

“Flies like a dream.” Trigger gave a thumbs up and a smile. He walks over, putting a hand on the fuselage. “Looks like it was brand new to be honest.”

The Scrap Queen raised an eyebrow. “Oh! Really?” She pursed her lips and looked over the X-02. “I know you used to be an actual military pilot. Some even said you were an ace.”

He frowned, but nodded. “Don’t know about the ace part. Even if I was, it’s gone now.”

“Still. You’re not bad, for a dumbass.” She grinned slightly. “Nice to see that someone appreciates my work.”

Trigger nodded, only to have a wrench thrown at him. He swiftly ducked under it, glaring at the Scrap Queen. 

“So why the fuck!” She growled at him slightly. “Was it riddled with bullet holes?!” 

Oh, well she’s pissed off, rule number one broken. He looked at her, squinting slightly. Then raise a single hand, with two fingers raised. 

“Try eight dumbass! You took hits to a noncritical part of the fuselage!” She grabbed him by his collar. “Do something like that again and I will skin you alive!” She pauses. “But it’s fixed, so I better get a fucking thank you.”

“Thank you…for all of your hard work.” Trigger swallowed slightly. “And, sorry.” The Scrap Queen paused. “It’s a beautiful plane.” He tilts his head. “How’d you do it?”

The Scrap Queen slowly let go of his collar. “You’re being honest?”

He nodded, his eyes squinted, eyebrow raised. “Why not?” Hell, everyone’s dark secrets were out for display here, he knew all the callsigns they had were just the crimes they committed. Hell, the base commander literally told everyone what his crimes were. He didn’t have any secrets to keep. He stood up and brushed himself off. Then picked up the wrench from earlier, handing it to The Scrap Queen.

She stood there, stunned for a few moments. “What are you trying to gain here?” She glared up at him. 

Trigger just shrugged. “Nothing.”

She glared at him more, her eyes narrowing. 

“Just curious.”

She kept glaring.

He just looked back at her. He wasn’t going to bother her to much if she didn’t want him to.

“I don’t trust you.” She glared a little more, then sighed. “This place is bullshit.”

He laughed, “Agreed” Trying to get on her good side, but she was right, the place was bullshit. “Any checks you need to do?”

She paused, then pulled out a list. “Yeeeeep, first time in the air, I gotta run the maintenance checks, especially after you took shots to the fuselage, those areas are cleared and looking good.” She read through her list a bit. “But I’ve got to do the equivalent of five A checks to do, and your plane isn’t the only one.” She sighed. “On top of that the higher ups want me to start working on another plane…apparently they found an F-14D just sitting around that was in near perfect condition. Unfortunately…” She groans and clenches her fist. “Someone ripped out all the goddamned wiring…for some fucking reason.” She sighed. “If I ever get my hands on that dumbass I will rip them a new one I swear to god.”

“Alright,” He held out his hand.

She looked at him, eyebrow cocked up. “What?”

A tilt of his head. “Thats the list?”

“Yeah? What’s it to yah?” She hissed, clenching her teeth.

“Prez and I will handle it.” He pointed to the tool cabinet. That would have everything they needed. On top of that they were both fully trained to preform A checks. Hell, he could handle everything up to C checks. He had to, incase of emergency. 

The Scrap Queen paused, Her mind processing what had just been offered to her. She paused, handed the checklist over to him, looking him dead in the eye. “You’re weird.” She grumbles, “For a supposed murderer anyways.” She took a deep breath. Going over to put away her wrench. “I know you can do it, so I’ll let you, you fuck it up, and I’ll have your head.”

“Yes ma’am” Trigger saluted her.

“Sure, whatever.” She made her way out, packing up her toolbox and limping away. “I’m going to go do my other work. Just next time try not to do anything to crazy in the plane. I worked hard on it to see it busted up in one flight.”

“No promises, but I’ll try.” He grinned happily.

She flipped him the bird as she walked off. “As long as you try dumbass.”

Trigger chuckled and smiled, She seemed nice at least. He went back to thinking about what to do with the plane. He liked the color scheme well enough, it was more camouflaged than what he was used to. But it wasn’t bad.

“Trigger! I’m back!” Prez came up to him and glared at him. “Now what the fuck did you do?”

What did he do? He looked at her in complete confusion. Just talked with the Scrap Queen and she was mad at him! The trust issues were annoying, but made sense. From what he heard, She was here on bullshit pretenses too. 

“Were you mean to her? She did all this hard work!” Prez jabbed him in the chest with two fingers. Glaring up at him. 

A quick shake of his head was his response. He didn’t do a damned thing, he was polite as he could be. Oh fuck did the Scrap Queen tell Prez some bullshit story or something?

She kept glaring at him for a good while. Then slowly backed down. “Ah…I see, sorry, she just looked really upset for some reason. Was it about the plane again? She was in here a while back replacing parts.”

Trigger just nodded. 

“Yeah she was really pissed. Strangest part was when I offered to help…she just glared. It was terrifying.” She handed him a new notepad. “Anyways…Here’s my emblem, thanks again Trigger.”

He took the notepad and looked over the sketch, it was quite simple. A seal it looked like, heroically sat upon a rock. He'd seen many of them just like this many times at Fort Grey's. He nodded slowly in approval. He could definitely work with this. Maybe jazz it up a bit with some bl-

“No…keep it simple, I like simple.” Prez stood there, arms crossed, glaring a bit at him. 

Simple was alright, but this was pretty simple. He raised an eyebrow. Was she sure she didn’t want at least some waves or water around the rock to give it a little extra detail or pop?

“Yes I’m sure. Look I like keeping things simple, makes it easier to put on different planes. Unlike some people who do full on pinups or other shit like that.” She scoffed. “Like seriously…come on what are you thinking. Or animals with weird colors, thats like bordering on just pure insanity.”

Trigger pouted at that. His orange wolf emblem wasn’t that bad! Was it? No he had kept it for a while, he would stick with it. He planned on making this one a little bigger than usual, but that would all depend on how big of a sheet of cardstock the guards would get him.

“Ahhhh shit…you’re going to paint a weirdly colored animal, aren’t you?” Prez pursed her lips with a frown. 

He glared back at her a bit. He was the one painting and it was his own goddamn emblem, it could be anything he wanted, maybe even a purple platypus. Huh…that actually wasn’t a bad idea, he could do it with a knife…no no that doesn’t work with his callsign.

“No! Nope! No no no!” Prez waved her arms back and forth. “Nevermind! Just do what you were going to do. You’re right, it’s your emblem and you’re the painter, not me.” She made an okay sign with her right hand. “Look just…” She took a deep breath, “thank you, for all of this, it means a lot to me.” 

With a nod, he tossed the notebook at his seat in the X-02, then handed her the checklist from the Scrap Queen.

She paused, taking the checklist, glancing back and forth between the list, the plane, and Trigger. “Ohhhh I see, she came here to do maintenance checks huh?” She nodded slowly as she went down the list. “I hope you’re trained in these kinda checks Trigger…cuz if you aren’t, you’re getting a crash course right now.” She glared at him. “Don’t you dare think you can get out of volunteering to help without doing any work.” She pulled out a wrench from her belt and started to gently tap it in the palm of her hand. 

“I…” What the hell is going on with the mechanics and threatening him with wrenches. He put up his hands in defense. “I’m trained for everything on that list.”

Prez’s threatening glare vanished as suddenly as it arrived, replaced by a toothy smile. “Well good! Why didn’t you just say so dumbass?” She continues reading over the list as she heads to the toolbox. “Seriously, we’ve got enough work to do as is with no pay. A bit of help is certainly welcome.”

Trigger just paused and looked at her. Why did she call him dumbass? The Scrap Queen kept calling him that too. Oh no no no, he was not changing his goddamn callsign to dumbass. He already had his callsign an-

“Dude, chill, chill.” She giggled loudly. “Fucking A man, it was a joke, you’re still Trigger don’t worry.” With a flick of her wrist she opens the entire tool cabinet. “Well, the guards aren’t got to come by anytime soon. They’re caught up trying to scrounge up whatever paint they call. Which is weird because we’ve got an entire fake runway that was painted onto the ground, full of fake fully painted planes. But no one, and I repeat, NO one can find a single god damn can of paint.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Seriously, the fuck.”

He did find that strange, it really shouldn’t be that hard to get their hands on some paint if he keeps seeing truckloads of it everywhere. He was pretty sure that when he was first brought here along with Prez, one of the palettes had a crate full of black paint cans. So what happened to all of that?

“Don’t overthink it.” Prez interrupted his thoughts, moving to her tip toes, tapping him on the nose. “Seriously, stop.” 

He frowns slightly. 

“Look it’s not something to worry about right now anyways. Right now what we need to worry about is this.” Prez gave the checklist a few pats. “So come on, lets get to work, alright?”

Taking a wrench for himself, Trigger smiled and spun it in his hands. “Right.” 

They looked over the X-02, and smiled. This, this was something they both knew, that they understood. 

No bullshit, no lies, no someone trying to get an upper hand on them. 

Just a simple maintenance check. 

Before they knew it, the sun had set. They were already half done with the checks, but the guards said it was time to pack up for the night. They left to check all the other hangers, telling Prez and Trigger not to leave and wait for someone to come get them. 

Prez chuckled as she started putting away all their tools into the cabinet. “Okay, I’ve got to say. I’m Impressed.” 

Trigger tilted his head as he handed her a water bottle. “How so?”

Prez looked at the water in surprise. “Ah, thank you.” She popped off the top and took a sip. “I wasn’t expecting you to be that well trained.” She chuckled. “In aircraft maintenance I mean.”

“Eh? That not common?” He tilted his head, taking a sip from his own water bottle.

“You’d be surprised.” She rolled her eyes. “Throughout my career as a mechanic, I’ve had so many pilots who are like,” She sat straight up and frowned hard, taking on a mocking voice “‘Nah babe I got this.’ they say.” She leaned back and laughed, all back to normal. “And of course when I go to check up on the progress. Boom, half assed job.” 

“No…no way.” He looked shocked, why the hell would you waste your mechanic’s time like that? You’re just making more work for them in the end…it just didn’t make sense to him. 

“I know right! It’s so fucking dumb!” She giggled. “It’s like oh yeah, thanks! You gave me three times the amount of work too because you didn’t record what you actually did. Here’s your reward.” She hefted her wrench like she was going to smack someone with it. 

“My flight instructor taught me.” Trigger tilted his head, looking down in thought. “Said he knew how to do it, and it saved his ass more times than he could count.” He grinned slightly. “Spent a whole week teaching us, and would test us constantly on it.”

Prez squinted her eyes slightly. “Huh…thats a damn good flight instructor. Didn’t you say he used to be a merc?”

“Yeah. Damn good one too.” He nodded. “Or so I’m told.”

“Wait wait, did he do his own maintenance?”

“It was only him and his wingman for a long time. No other crew. They had to do everything themselves.”

Prez just stared, then she laughed. “Huh…If I ever get back to hitman team I’ll…I’ll…I…” Her smile suddenly dropped. “If I ever…get back…” She sighed deeply and slowly made her way over to the tool cabinet. She sat on top and pulled her legs close, so her chin was resting on her knees. 

Trigger stopped what he was doing and looked to her, he wondered if there was anything he could do, any comforting words he could say. She was just as lost as he was here. She had a squad, a team. While they had been distant, it was still something she could call hers. Trigger didn’t know if anyone could call this place theirs. Maybe Count? Since he seemed to always want to be in charge.

“I just…need a minute Trigger, do you mind finishing putting things away for me?”

Picking up more tools, he just nodded. He worked on getting everything put away as Prez just stared at the ground. It only took him a few minutes, but he had everything in place. So he closed the tool cabinet and secured the door. Leaning forward against it, he looked over to his right. Prez was still just staring at the ground, lost in thought. Opening his breast pocket, he pulled out the picture that had haunted him earlier that day. Handing it to Prez. 

She jumped slightly, and looked at the picture, gently taking it and staring at it for a good moment. Her eyebrows raised at recognizing Trigger’s face. She looked a little more hurt as she looked back at him. “Well…you guys look like a good group. Wish I had something like them.”

“No, you don’t.” He winced, realizing he didn’t word it right. “Well…not them exactly.”

“Why?”

“They abandoned me…except Brownie. She was dead before I got caught up in this mess.”

Prez looked at the picture in shock. “Abandoned you? How? Why?”

Trigger took a deep break, and talked. He was still getting used to talking more, still not his strong suit. “Harling…his…death.” He tried not to blame himself. “I was blamed for it. No one wanted to stand up for me or defend me. Not even my team.” Fists clenched, he continued. “They all called me murderer, assassin. Some even attacked me, no one moved to stop them. Even my flight lead didn’t do a damn thing. Just said I was the closest, that alone basically sealed my fate.”

“But…why? Why would they do that? I mean I know Brownie…you said she was dead before all this happened. Right?”

He nodded. “Yeah…I…..I couldn’t save…save her.” Running his hands through his hair, He took a deep breath. 

“She couldn’t have been the only one who was close to you, right?”

“You’re right, she wasn’t. But…they all just…turned on me. We were all peacekeepers, we took an oath to uphold peace and put the people of Usea’s needs before our own. To protect and prevent another war. But…once the war started, everyone changed. It was small at first. But Harling’s death was a turning point.” He took a deep breath, trying not to break down. He focused his attention on the wall in front of him. The rage in his chest burned, he was so angry at the way he was treated. Betrayed. What good were countries if they didn’t work towards the betterment of their people. What the hell had he been fighting for under the IUN?

“Trigger.” 

Trigger’s head snapped towards her voice. 

Prez looked at him, a warm gentle stare. “Hey, fuck those guys, if they didn’t want to help you. They they aren’t really your friends. Plus…remember. You’re stuck with me now.” She grinned.

With a tilt of his head, he asked a question, something he needed to know for a while. It was burning in the back of his mind. “Promise?”

Prez held out her hand, “Promise.” Her grin held. 

Trigger looked at her, she looked so sincere, and happy. Compared to how she looked moments before, broken and lost. He remember she looked like this when he had told her he was serious about having her sick with him. Frozen for just a moment, he remembered Brownie. Guilt bubbled in his chest, if he couldn’t protect her, who’s to say when it came down to it. Could he protect Prez? He had already lost too many friends, to war, or to lies. 

Turning, he looked at the Strike Wyvern. No, he would protect her, and she would protect him. They would work together, and damn anyone who tried to break them apart. Slowly, he turned back to Prez, and smiled back. 

“Good.” He shook her hand. “We’re sticking together then.”

She smiled, a big toothy grin. “Yeah, we are Trigger. I’ll watch your back.”

He paused, it was as if she had read his mind once again. “Same here Prez, Same here.” With those words, his question was answered.


End file.
